A Diffrent Point of View
by Dragoneye0103
Summary: I got thinking with Maurader0103 about what could have happened to Draco Malfoy after the Battle of Hogwarts, and how he met Astoria. This is my interpretation of it - I hope you enjoy it.


**I was wondering what happened to Draco Malfoy after the Battle of Hogwarts, so I got thinking with Maurader0103.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and I am NOT JKRowling.**

 **Although that would be awesome.**

 **Thank you to Maurader0103 for brilliant ideas and editing!**

Amidst the celebrations and laughter in the Great Hall, three poker-stiff figures sat aware of the questioning stares and angry whispers surrounding them. A woman with long, straggly blond hair had her arm around her pale son and was whispering in his ear as he glared indifferently out the window. The man by their side was on the receiving end of numerous murderous glares from his fellow wizards and witches and was trying pretending he did not care.

All three outcasts wore black robes and gloves, which made them stick out like bats in the colourful party. They all shared blonde, almost white, hair, and horribly pale skin which gave them the look of lost ghosts. The son, a tall, wiry boy who looked like he had seen too much, pulled away from his mother's embrace and crossed his arms.

With a curt explanation to his parents, the son stood up and marched out the room, staring at the floor as a path was made for him through the crowd. He tried to ignore the whispers that were racing through the crowd, that _he_ had been a Death Eater, yes, _him_ , the Malfoy's son, Draco. Slamming the heavy hall door behind him, Draco broke into a panicky run.

 _What_ had happened?

Not an hour ago, he had been sure of the victory for the Death Eaters, and had been part of their army. But then Potter had turned up and… well, no-one was _entirely_ sure what had happened next. But the precise facts almost didn't matter - the Dark Lord was dead and Harry Potter and his band of followers had won.

Before now he would never have admitted it, but he much preferred a world without the Dark Lord.

That didn't mean he was any less confused.

Draco stood outside the entrance to Dumbledore's office, panting and wondering why his legs had carried him _here_ of all placed.

He had tried not to think about Dumbledore. He had tried to forget his haunting bright blue eyes, had tried to stop thinking about that night on the ramparts...

The Death Eaters who had found out what happened that night Dumbledore died had regarded him with a new-found respect, as though he was properly one of them now.

But he had never wanted to be a Death Eater – the only thing he had ever wanted was to play Quidditch...

He turned so his back was against the cool stone and slumped into a sitting position, putting his head in his hands. There was no escaping what had happened in the past. There was no escaping what people would think of him. But it had always been lonely being Draco Malfoy. He would just have to cope.

Very faintly, wisps of a conversation drifted up the twisting staircase. Draco, groaned, and heaved himself to his feet. Never had company been more ill-timed. Absentmindedly he ran his fingers over the rough stone wall, trying to prolong the moment he would have to dive into Dumbledore's office to escape the accusing glares of whoever was approaching.

"Seriously, though, Harry, I know you were busy and all but you should have _seen_ some of the other duels going on in the hall."

"Yeah... who killed Bellatrix?"

"Molly Weasly!"

" _Really_?"

"Yeah! Now I see where Ginny gets her hexing abilities from... I reckon that'll be the last time Fred and George – well, George – winds her up."

The voices fell silent, their footsteps ringing through the silence.

"Sorry, Ron.

"Nah... don't worry Hermione."

"It'll be ok."

"Thanks."

Oh Merlin! It could have been _anyone_ walking up those stairs... but no, it had to be _them._ It was always them. As the footsteps grew louder Draco, cursing, started towards the office door, praying it wouldn't be locked, wondering how long he had left before he would have to dart inside.

Just as he was about to push open the door, his finger caught on something jutting out of the wall about eye height. Draco froze and slowly felt his way around it. Carved, almost invisible against the brown stone, was a miniscule eye, overhanging the wall by a few millimetres. His heart in his throat, Draco pushed the eye, and the entire section of wall swung slowly around, sweeping him with it, just before the voices reached the landing.

His heart beating like a rabbit, he crouched in the suffocating darkness, and he heard the shuffle of people going into Dumbledore's office, and finally, the thud of a closing door.

 _"_ _Lumos_ ," he whispered very faintly. Instantly a ball of light appeared at the end of his wand, illuminating a dusty, cobwebby, curved passageway that looked like it bowed around Dumbledore's office. But his wand light only revealed a few meters in front of him, plunging the end of the passage into impenetrable, velvety blackness.

Very carefully, he inched forwards, dust making his eyes stream.

The passageway was only short. Barely five meters from where Draco had entered it slammed to a stop at a very solid stone wall.

Draco crept towards it, wondering _why_ someone would create a secret passageway only to make it a dead end. Curiously, just below the dead end, the floor was clear of dust, so that the cobbled floor underneath could be seen. A tiny slither of orange light was peeking through the stones, and Draco could hear muffled voices behind the wall. Sinking to his knees, Draco laid reluctantly on the dust-consumed cobbles and squinted at the wall.

There was a small, rectangular slit in it, about the size and width of a wand, slashed about ankle-height into the wall, which gave a perfect view of Dumbledore's office. The office looked exactly the same as when Dumbledore had been using it, which surprised Draco, for some reason. He had been expecting it to be greyer, somehow, now that Dumbledore was dead.

But that was not the case. The office was as alive as ever, crazy contraptions, too numerous to count lined all available space, except for the desk. A constant hum of movement and conversation came from the portraits behind the desk, most of whom were empty, their occupants having travelled to another picture to party or spread the news. Clustered around the biggest portrait, hanging directly behind the desk, were three figures; Potter, Weasly and Granger.

Draco took a short breath as he saw them, and froze. Maybe this was his chance to find out what had happened! Ears straining, he tried to catch their conversation.

Not that it made any sense to him.

He heard Potter talk about a stone... and a wand? Something about... about putting something back...

It was infuriating. Glowering, he watched the friends leave.

When he was sure they were gone, Draco stood up, dusted himself off, coughing. He was just turning away; back down the passageway, when he paused.

 _I wonder..._

And running his hand along the wall, Draco found what he was looking for. Bracing himself, he pushed the identical carved eye in the wall, and swung round into the dazzlingly bright office.

At once the portraits fell silent and stared at him. Their inhabitants were stony faced, staring at him. Well, all except a withered wizard who was snoring in a small painting to the left of Dumbledore.

Avoiding everyone's gaze, he tiptoed up to him, and cautiously met Dumbledore's eyes.

If he had been expecting a cold welcome from Dumbledore, he was surprised. The usual warmth filled those sky-blue eyes as he smiled at Draco.

"Draco, how are you?" Dumbledore queried, as though he was not greeting the boy who had tried to kill him. Draco spun around to look at the blank wall he had just materialized from. There was no sign that a secret passageway existed behind the wall, yet Dumbledore was acting like he had been expecting him.

"I'm-well-I'm just...," But how could he explain what he was feeling? How could he _possibly_ put into words what had happened?

"I gather, then, that you are seeking answers...?" smiled Dumbledore over his half-moon spectacles. Draco just nodded.

"Well, I'm afraid you might need to sit down," said Dumbledore, pressing his fingertips together.

"And so, ironically, Voldemort was killed by his own rebounding curse," finished Dumbledore, some while later.

Draco just stared at him, spellbound, head reeling.

"But... why have you told me all this?" blustered Draco.

"I have explained to you everything which took place tonight because I don't doubt for a second that you will never let a word of this pass your lips," said Dumbledore.

"I'd have a hard time getting anyone to believe me," said Draco, as Dumbledore raised and eyebrow, "I _do_ believe you, sir."

"I know you do."

"So...so Snape was _meant_ to k-kill you?"

" _Professor_ Snape, Draco. And yes, that was all part of my plan."

"B-but... I ruined the plan, didn't I?" protested Draco," _I_ took control of the Elder wand, that was supposed to stay undefeated with you."

"But Draco! You didn't _ruin_ my plan at all – you improved it. Because of what happened that night, Harry Potter," Draco flinched at his name, and Dumbledore gave a knowing smile, " was able to take control of the Elder wand, and use it to kill Lord Voldemort."

"So... so you're not... upset with me, sir?"

"Of course not Draco," said Dumbledore, "We both know you we never going to kill me," he added softly.

Draco looked at the floor and nodded.

"Good, good... now Draco, what are you going to do now?"

"Well, start a new life I suppose. If anyone will accept that," he said glumly.

"You never know until you try," said Dumbledore kindly.

"Thanks, Professor."

"You are always welcome, Draco."

With a final nod of farewell, Draco made his way to the office door, stealing one last look at Dumbledore, who winked and waved, before shutting the door on the warmth and light of Dumbledore's office.

As Draco made his way unwillingly back to the Great Hall, he thought about what Dumbledore had told him.

What Dumbledore had said had happened tonight... was that _really_ true? And yet Draco absolutely believed him – Dumbledore wouldn't lie.

He walked a bit faster now, anxious to get back to everyone, anxious to tell them that _he,_ Draco Malfoy, was going to carve himself a new life, one away from his past. He imagined Dumbledore's smiling face, approving of what he was determined to do.

He was going to push his past firmly behind him.

But on the Sixth Corridor, Draco stopped. Achingly faint, he heard a high, snging sound coming from his left, a dark, deserted corridor. Like a moth lured to the light, Draco ran after the sound. The further down the corridor he ran, the louder the eerie sound became, until he realised it was the sound of crying – human crying.

He rounded a turn in the corridor and stopped short.

Amid a glowing halo of moonlight shining through a broken window, a small crouched figure sobbed in a nest of broken glass and rubble. In the silence of the empty corridor, its cries echoed into the night, mirroring Draco's anguish and tugging him forwards. As he crept through the maze of debris, the figure lifted its head and stared at him. Some of her black hair flowed down her shoulders, but the rest was tied back in a messy braid. Her skin had a pale glow that made her look like a wandering ghost. Greif-stricken brown eyes were glazed over with tears, and Draco realised she wasn't actually seeing him.

Her arms buckled and Draco rushed forwards and caught her. Looking into her eyes he realised she was only his age. She had seemed much younger.

"Don't worry... don't worry... its ok, I'm here... please don't worry..." he soothed, desperately trying to calm her. She was freezing in the cool night air, and was shivering uncontrollably.

"Come on... let's get somewhere warmer..." he said, gently guiding the girl to her feet. She staggered against him, tears still pouring down her face, but she had stopped crying and was sniffing in juddering gasps. Gripping him hard, she whispered "W-William..." in a low voice.

"Who's William?"

"He is... w-was my brother," she shuddered and gasped," he's... d-dead."

"I'm so sorry," said Draco simply, at a loss how to comfort her. She smiled very faintly and looked at him properly for the first time.

Deep in her searching eyes, he thought he saw a future away from all this mess.

He knew he would do anything to protect her.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"My n-name is A-Astoria. What's y-yours?"

"Draco... Draco Malfoy," he tensed.

"That's a n-nice name," said Astoria dreamily, leaning her head on his shoulder.

And for the first time in months, Draco smiled.


End file.
